


Of Brothers and Blood Guilt

by Natasha_Rostova



Category: The Silmarillion and other histories of Middle-Earth - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Angst, Gen, Guilt, No Romance, Threats of Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-25
Updated: 2019-05-25
Packaged: 2020-03-17 08:03:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 765
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18961189
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Natasha_Rostova/pseuds/Natasha_Rostova
Summary: Staring at Maitimo's bruised body, Maglor feels nothing but guilt.





	Of Brothers and Blood Guilt

It was eating at him.

Ripping at him.

Tearing at his soul, consuming his every thought.

Every dream. Or rather, nightmare.

He should be happy Maitimo is back. Overjoyed. His lost brother returns. His best friend, back from the dead. He had no duty to the crown anymore. He was no longer king. Maitimo had returned.

Yet, looking upon Maitimo’s beaten face, Maglor feels no sense of relief. Rather, he feels dread creeping in his heart.

Too late.

I'm sorry.

Too late.

Could the candle not burn any faster? 

When would it be Celegorms turn to look after Maitimo? Maglor cannot bear to sit any longer. Cannot bear to look upon his brother any longer. 

Maitimo looked so hurt. Yet, so hardened. Even as he lie resting, he looked stoic. Strong as stone and yet wounded beyond comprehension. He looked-

He looked so much like their atar.

Maglor rips his eyes from his brother's sleeping form just as the memory of fire blazes behind his eyelids. He cannot take it anymore.

Maglor cannot keep gazing upon his wounds. 

Despite this, when Maglor stands, he finds himself moving closer to his brothers bedside.

It makes the knot in his stomach tie tighter.  
Twist and pull until he feels nothing but knots and uncertainty.

This was his fault.

His doing.

How could he ever apologize?

Maglor sits himself on Maitimo's bed, close enough to see his brother chest rise and fall. He was struggling to breathe. Struggling.

Maitimo would not wake up because of him. He was beaten and bruised because of him.

Because Maglor was a coward. 

Because he wasn't strong enough. 

Or good enough. 

Or Valiant enough. 

Maglors fist tightens. 

Valiant.

What the people were calling his dear cousin.

The Valiant.

Fingon had tried to tell Maglor he was blameless.  
Had comforted and soothed. Said he knew Maglor had to stay behind. He had to look after his younger brothers. Maglor could not let his siblings be left without a leader. Fingon had given him the benefit of the doubt. Had been understanding. 

Had been Valiant.

Kind and noble. Understanding and true.

What a fool Maglor was. Shaking his head, Maglor shifts his thoughts back to Maitimo. How broken he looked. Face relaxed in rest. Yet his body. Wounded beyond repair. Maglor starts talking before he can catch himself.

"Hello." Maglor whispers, reaching to hold Maitimo's hand. "I hope you're feeling better today." No response. "Caranthir said you had a nightmare last night." No movement from Maitimo. "I hope you're resting peacefully now." Maglor smiles sadly, scanning his brothers face for any sign of consciousness.

There is none.

"I just wanted to say. I just. I want you to know-" Maglor tries to sound strong, tries to be brave. Yet his words come jumbled and broken. A dry sob sits in his throat.

"I'm just so sorry." The words come out quickly and more choked then he intends, "When we had discovered you left, when none of the men would tell us where you and your battalion went," Maglor squeezes his brothers hand harder, "I thought you had abandoned us. I thought, I thought you left me." His voice is ernest and cracked. "I thought you went home without me." Maglor allows himself this now, weeping over his brothers form, sharp sobs burning his throat and piercing his lungs, yet he can't seem to stop. "I thought you left me behind." 

"And then...and then they told us you went to face Melkor. Although he would not tell us why. In my heart I knew it was the Silmarils. I knew. We all did. But if no one said anything, we were not oath bound. So we all pretended. Pretended we did not know why you left." Maglor's vision is blurred and his head swims, but he cannot hold it in any longer.

He had let down his atar and ammë.

He had let Feanor die. 

And now he had killed his brother too. Hot tears trailed down his face. Maitimo had suffered. He had been brave and now he was going to die. Just because Maglor was weak.

And selfish.

And scared.

Oh so scared.

If he had just-

If he was better than he was.

If he was Fingon.

If he was Valiant.

"Maitimo I was just so scared. I am. I am so so scared." His voice is just mummers and hiccups, tears flowing freely. "Please wake up. Please know how sorry I am. Please just-"

Maitimo stirs, face twisting into a silent grimace. Only to still again.

And Maglor weeps harder.

**Author's Note:**

> Just a quick writing exercise inspired by my dear vrgmason
> 
> I wrote this so fast its terrible. I apologize lol
> 
> Make sure to leave kudos and a comment if you enjoyed! I love hearing feedback from you guys!


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